What the Living Do
by The Tribe
Summary: Sure, absence may make the heart grow fonder but...are those sideburns Rukia sees?


That dumb grin is there again, the kind of welcome surprise that takes hold of Ichigo's face as if it were its hostage. Since the battles have ended, he only seems to have stopped smiling for very short intervals, as if his lips keep remembering what has transpired and feel the need to celebrate all over again. When he thinks no one's looking, Ichigo stares at the back of his hands, the new half-gloves from his latest surge of power dazzling him.

While waiting for Inoue to finish with Riruka's healing, he and Rukia sit side by side in the hallway, leaning against the wall opposite the sliding door. His eyes are shining when she chances a glance in his direction—but this time it's not at his gloves or his new, larger sword that he's looking at. It's Rukia.

Frowning, she pretends she has no idea why he's staring at her like a lost puppy that's finally been found. She's trying her best to be nonchalant about this, she really is, but he's not helping with his eyes sparkling and the size of cup saucers.

"What?" she asks irritably, contradicting the pounding heart in her chest.

Although she hates herself for it, she revels in the attention he's giving her. The acknowledgment, at least. The recognition. His amber-brown eyes finally being able to see her. Embarrassingly, the vice-captain keeps catching herself seeking those eyes with her own. She knows she's being idiotic when she quickly turns away each time they find each other; she just hopes hers aren't shining as obviously as his are. If Rukia were to be honest, she would admit to being just as thrilled and deliriously happy to see him again as he is her.

In the same way, Ichigo has half a mind to confess that he's just looking at her for the sake of seeing her. But she knows, of course. He knows she knows, but it's an entirely different thing to say it aloud. Instead, now he's the one to turn away, avoiding her imploring gaze. "Nothing," he answers, a hitch in his voice betraying him.

She repeats her question, this time more annoyed, stiffening, and pulling back her shoulders to make herself seem taller, a trick she learned at a young age and perfected as a vice-captain. A small chuckle falls from his mouth, and her eyebrow twitches. If he's laughing at her, ooh, he's gonna get it...

This time, however, he meets her eyes. "Really," Ichigo assures her in a voice that seems to constrict Rukia's chest, "it's nothing."

_Liar_, she thinks, smirking. He was never good at hiding things from her. From anyone, really. It doesn't matter though. She sways, leaning to her right, into him, lightly and playfully bumping her shoulder against his arm. When he side-eyes her, the smile on his face widens. Rolling her eyes, Rukia determines this grin is even dumber than the previous ones.

When she leans back, her head against the wall and a stare at the ceiling, she can feel his eyes on her again. Rolling her neck, she looks directly at him once more, watches him jolt where he sits.

Before she can even get out her exasperated "What _is it_, Ichigo?" he suddenly points and exclaims, "Your hair!"

Hands flying to her head, Rukia feels about, trying to determine the problem. With the way he's acting, she thought it was on fire or something! "What's wrong with it?" she demands, panicked.

He shrinks back. "Oh, nothing," he admits, mildly embarrassed. "It's just different, is all."

Rukia groans, and sets her hands back in her lap. She'd gotten all worked up over nothing. And so had he! Did he really expect her to keep her hair the same forever? Looking at Ichigo's hair, she notices how much it hasn't changed. Well, at least not drastically...

"So is yours," she teases, poking at his cheek. "Are those sideburns I see?"

"Get off," he grumbles, pouting, swatting away her hand.

Who does he think she is? She won't give up so easily. Giggling like a child, she continues her assault. "Oh, how manly!" she mocks, taking his face in her hands and stroking his sideburns with exaggerated movements. "What's next?" With this, she pointedly grabs him by the chin, making a face. "A goat-beard like your father? Or do I have to draw one on again?"

Annoyed—but still with that stupid grin on his face—he commands, "Stop it!" He grabs her hand, holding it for slightly longer than necessary before throwing it aside. Rukia's evil smile is still there, quite proud of herself.

Something bothers her though. It's not just the sideburns, he's taller now too. Only by a few centimeters, but it still means the same thing: He's moving forward.

Her smile fades. _That's what the living do_, Rukia concedes, though she doesn't want to. The last thing she wants to think of is the lost time between them. Hasn't she already made peace with this? She had to leave without seeing any more of him. Otherwise she wouldn't have been able to save him, she wouldn't have gotten promoted so she could even be in a position to save him. It's less painful than it would have been if she'd returned before the preparations, before he could see her. For both of them.

But isn't that a lie? The question bites into her. Surely she would have been able to accomplish the feat of gathering shinigami together to put their reiatsu into Urahara's special sword—that had nothing to do with her position as vice-captain. That was all Ichigo. And who would she hurt if she had returned to Karakura? Not Ichigo, he wouldn't even be aware of her presence. That's it. That's the real reason she didn't go back, not to see him at least. It's selfish of her, but she doubts she would have been able to stand seeing him in the state he was in without being able to help him. To see him look right through her as if she weren't there. Especially in the state he had been in. It had already hurt too much when Inoue described it to her.

It's no use thinking about it, she knows, and yet it gnaws at her still.

Almost two years. That was a long time to a human. It shouldn't have been for a shinigami—especially at her age—but that time without Ichigo? It felt like an eternity.

He's growing, as humans tend to do, where as she...She stays the same. Not even: it's like she's going backwards. _It's just hair_, she reminds herself. Hair grows back. She's just over-thinking things, as usual—but that doesn't change the ache in her heart when she thinks of him living on without her.

She looks back up at Ichigo, who at this point has resorted to idly watching the dust dance in the light to keep himself entertained. Overcome and at a loss, Rukia rests her head against his shoulder, broad and strong beneath her.

"Rukia...?" he begins, shifting his body slightly, but gently enough that she isn't shaken off. "Rukia, what—"

"I didn't miss you," she lies brokenly. "Not even a little bit."

If it's like this...if it's like this, it will be okay. Serene, her eyelids slip closed once she feels his warm cheek rest atop the side of her head.

"Me neither," he replies, his voice adopting that soft way of his. That special way, the tone he uses only when he knows exactly what she means. It's been so long since she's heard him use that voice, and yet it suddenly feels as if no time has passed at all.

Rukia wants to say more, she wants them to be honest with each other. But Ichigo knows, he understands her. _They_understand each other. It's okay for now. She won't say it, because she knows what will happen if she does. She doesn't have the luxury to fall apart. Another time, another place, she'll tell him what it was like to be without him for so long. And maybe he'll do the same.

It's enough to know that things are as they should be. They are together now. For now, it's enough.


End file.
